


for the untamed delicious wild thing

by blastellanos



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M, true love is writing your bestie porn because they ask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/pseuds/blastellanos
Summary: José--José is a distraction.José has always been something of a distraction.





	for the untamed delicious wild thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badritual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/gifts).



José is stretched out on the floor. There's one television on that's showing the weather, overlapped with the FSD crew talking about the rain delay, and some of the other guys are crowded around an XBox, playing Fortnite, and jostling one another as they fight over the controller. James is trying to concentrate, to catch up on reading his scripture. 

He glances up at the television, where they're talking about how the game will probably be postponed, much to his own chagrin. He'd been looking forward to getting out there, to blank out the disquieted whispers in his mind, and continue to push away the lingering thoughts of his failed marriage, and the divorce papers he has yet to sign. 

His gaze falls on José, who looks ridiculous with oversized Beats headphones on, his shoulders shimmying to whatever he's listening to. José--

José is a distraction. 

José has always been something of a distraction. As C-Mo continues to patter on about the delayed game, the postponement, the restlessness that has been on his mind seems to be stirred up into a frenzy. James puts his bible aside and glances at the textured leather, the gilded lettering on the front. 

Then he glances back to José. 

His shirt is pushed up, the muscles in his arms showing, the strong line of his forearms, flexing as he half holds himself up. His eyes are closed with his dark lashes against his cheekbones. He's stretched out, like an invitation, like a temptation. 

James moves from his chair and lays across from him. He observes José for a moment and then reaches out to poke him in the forehead. He watches as José's eyes snap open and his surprised, near annoyed, expression melts into something that James doesn't quite understand. 

He looks-- pleased?-- but that seems like it doesn't make sense. 

"Hey." James says as José slides the headphones off of his ears. There's reggaeton piping out from the speakers, tinny and distant. 

" _Que bola?_ " José says and his expression has moved from that brief moment of joy to something like suspicion. His dark eyes slitted like a predatory cat, looking like James is his next bit of prey. 

"I'm bored." 

"And?" José asks. His brows raise a little and James pokes at José's arm. 

"Entertain me." James says, it's almost imperious. José looks mildly amused then and he shifts a little, reaching over to his phone to flip the music off. James grabs his hand. "Lets arm wrestle." 

Because he takes José by surprise, he pins his hand down to the carpet easily, and laughs, as he pushes the back of José's hand against the rough carpet. José glares at him a little and huffs. 

"Best two out of three?" James says sweetly.  
José huffs again. 

"Yes." 

James gives José time to setup this time, feeling his dry palm against James's own. He curls his fingers around José. 

"I'm gonna count to three." James says. "One, two--" 

José pushes James's hand down and his dark eyes glitter with musement. 

"I guess we need that third one." José says. His lips curve in a mischievous smile, teeth flashing white. 

"You're a brat." 

"You start it." José sticks his tongue out, flashing pink. 

"You gonna play fair now?" 

"Probably no." 

James frowns at him, but this is significantly better than reading his bible. 

"Guess we'll have to just make you behave then." James says and he doesn't let go of José's hand. No one is really paying attention, as there is a round of cussing from over where everyone else is focusing on their video games. 

Before José can react too much, James slides his hand down and gets a grip onto José's wrist. His fingernails dig in a little and he watches the pink stain over José's cheekbones. José starts to sit up and James takes advantage of it, and he shoves José back down and covers his body with his own. 

"We're going to really wrestle." 

José squirms under him and pushes at James's shoulders, laughing a little. James pins down José's shoulders and the carpet rucks his shirt up, exposing a strip of tantalizing skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the elastic of his basketball shorts. 

James presses his thigh between José's legs and he can feel the hint of his interest. It shocks James, like he hadn't expected it, even though it's -- 

He looks down at José's face. The dark shine of his eyes, the pink slashed over his cheekbones, the uneven rise and fall of his chest. James feels incredibly warm, like he's getting away with something. He pins José's arm above his head, feels the flex of muscle as José twists his wrists, sees how strong his he is, watches the twitch of his finger. 

James's cock suddenly feels heavy and hot, stirring between his legs. And he feels-- well, he can feel José's interest too. 

There's a lot of ways that this can go wrong, but instead, James pushes his thigh between José's legs and watches as his teeth dig into his lower lip. James wants to lick the indent where José's teeth are digging in. He wants to grab his hips and guide José through rubbing himself off on James's thighs. 

A burst of laughter from behind them cuts through the fogginess in his head and he pins José's wrists with one hand and pokes him in the chest. 

"You're not really wrestling." 

José looks started for a moment and breathes in quickly. 

"Uh." José struggles against James's grip but his heart isn't really in it and James feels José's cock twitch against his thigh, excited about how he's pinned down. 

James grinds his thigh down against José's cock. José's cheeks look even more red. It's -- James feels some powerful urge, something like possessiveness. Something primal. He wants suddenly -- he pushes the thought back. 

José fights under him, squirming and twisting his wrists, bucking his hips up in an attempt to throw James off. But it more has the effect of José rubbing against his thigh. 

Until it seems less like an attempt to throw him off and more like an attempt to just, use his thigh to please himself. James grits his teeth and grinds his thigh down harder, watching as José tips his head back and writhes a little. 

James wants to bite at the line of José's neck, suck on where he's sure José's pulse is beating under his warn skin. He wants -- 

James pulls back abruptly. 

"This mean I win? You concede?" José asks. But his voice sounds off. It sounds thick and a little too high, a little too tight. 

James feels nearly dizzy with his arousal and it's just the tenuous grip he's got on the reality of the situation that prevents him from just ripping José's clothes off and taking him. 

"Not so fast. Just needs a… change of venues." James says delicately. José looks briefly like he doesn't understand and then -- all at once like he does. It almost feels like a game they're playing. Cat and mouse.  
James doesn't know exactly which role he's playing. 

He started this, he pushed it, but did he really or was he lured? James feels a bubbling of tension under his skin, swallowing around a discomfort that comes from uncertainty. Because he likes this. He likes José under him, he likes the feel of him hard against him. It's bad-- so bad. 

He glances over his shoulder and the world isn't paying attention to them. James stands and palms at the front of his pants, trying to will his erection away, and he helps José up off the floor and then ushers him away, away from everyone else, leaving their things abandoned like they just got raptured, strewn on the floor. 

He pushes José into a supply closet, that smells like chemicals, and gropes around for the light switch before they're under a flood of flourescent light. 

"Romantic." José's tone is flat, but his eyes are still burning like hot coals, the flush hasn't faded from his cheeks, his slim chest still shudders uneven breaths. James's hand goes to José's belt. 

"Shut up." James says and concentrates on unhooking the silvered buckle, he pulls the leather through, and thoughts filter through his head like a movie playing in fast forward. Black leather against tawny skin, of the sensitive skin there being rubbed raw, marks from the edges of the belt-- and hiding them under orange wrap later under the game. A secret. 

He dismisses it, because he can't risk hurting José's wrist. Thinks about the perfect throws he makes from up the middle and sinks painfully down. 

It makes his knees ache and he looks up at José in the unnatural light. Makes it all a little too harsh and a little too sharp, and he sees José grip a metal shelf behind him, fingers curling there, and James breathes out through his nose and tugs José's pants down. 

"You sure you wanna do this?" José's voice sounds thick, and heady, and he's hard when James gets his pants down. James doesn't remember wanting anything else, it all fades into the background, like the ache in his knees and lingering thoughts of everything he's done wrong. It all blanks out for this exact moment. 

"I want to." James's voice doesn't sound like his own. 

James stops thinking about it and leans in, wraps his mouth around the head of José's cock and tastes him musky and salty on his tongue. James knows it's going to make his jaw ache, but he takes him in, flicks his gaze up to study. 

José's looking at him, and the flush has colored his ears, painted down his neck, and it disappears down into the deep v of the jersey he's wearing. He can see in the overhead lights, the sweat clinging to his upper lip. José's hand curls into his hair instead of the shelving, and James tries to get into a rhythm. 

He settles a hand against José's thigh, feels him quivering, feels him holding back. But José's hips are stuttering a little, like he's attempting to not thrust forward, as James slides down on him, trying to take it slow-- trying to make it good. But he wants a lot. 

He wants to take more, he wants to go fast, he wants to drive José wild. 

(James knows things that he wants that he can't have, it's too dangerous here, to try and get José loud.) 

James pulls off wetly, purposefully vulgar with it, and José's flush deepens, his breathing stuttering more, his fingers tugging at James's hair urgently. 

"You can move." James says. He thinks about how he hasn't really done this before, how he doesn't know how much he can take-- but how he wants to find out. He rubs his hands over José's shaking thighs and over where his cock has been slicked up from James's mouth. 

José nods like he understands and James leans back in, settling his hands on José's hips and sucks on the head of his cock, rubs his tongue over the underside of his cock, feeling the heavy weight of it against his tongue. It's filling his senses. 

José jerks his hips forward and James moves back, coughing a little, surprised and José's expression turns a little worried, but James pushes him back against the shelf. 

"It's okay." James's voice sounds like he's been swallowing glass. He moves back in, and takes it a little slower, puts his fist around the base of José's cock so he can't get too deep. James takes José in like that, listening to his harsh breathing, the slick sounds of his mouth around him, the pounding of his heartbeat in his heard. 

"S'good," José's voice is a little slurred, sounding like he's drunk with lust. James's eyes flick back up to José's face, watching his dark eyes. Watching how red José is, the way he keeps licking his lips, how he keeps swallowing around the noises he can hear vibrating low in his throat. 

God, it's so hot. 

James presses his free hand against the front of his pants, groaning softly around José. José's hips jerk forward and he pushes forward, James's hand pressing his lip into his teeth. He's going to be bleeding from it, but he doesn't care. 

His aches aren't just physical ones, either. 

It happens so fast after that. 

José gets both of his hands in James's hair and thrusts as far in as he can with James's hands preventing to much, until he's oozing precome enough that James can feel it coating his tongue and the back of his throat. Until José is warning him, with urgent pulling at the back of his hair. 

"Oh fuck, oh shit, Mac-- I'm gonna--" 

James pulls back, but not quite enough in time. José shoves his fist in his mouth and groans around it as he comes, mostly on James's face, over his lips and chin. José's color doesn't fade and James pulls back, looking up at José, feeling like a mess for more than one reason. 

There's nothing but the hum of the flourescent light and both of them breathing harshly. The supply cabinet is a good idea-- James uses a soft yellow cloth nearby to clean up his face, to clean up José and then he stands. He's still-- 

Buzzing from it, he's still hard, and still wanting-- still needing. 

"We should get back." James says. José's dark gaze is fixed on James's mouth, he touches James's lower lip with shaking hands. 

"Let me…" José reaches down but James pushes his hand away. 

"They've probably noticed." It's strange, the feeling James has-- he doesn't examine it, beyond that there's something-- James isn't gay. He doesn't think he could handle José touching him like that. José doesn't press, just straightens his clothing and giving James an awkward pat on the shoulder. 

José slips out of the room and James braces himself against the metal shelf and slips his hands in his pants. It's quick and dirty, jerking himself off with the taste of José still on his lips. They'd taken it too far, and the noise isn't quiet anymore, ringing around in James's head. 

The game is called and James is glad to be going home. He breathes out, starts packing everything up, as people mill about doing the same. José hovers in his periphery. 

"Dinner?" José asks, the casual invitation makes James startle. José's face is back to normal, but his lower lip has a cut in it, his knuckles bruised a little from where he'd bit down. James shrugs a little and then nods. 

"Sure." 

They walk out together, in a companionable but not entirely comfortable silence. They go to James's truck and José silently puts an address in the GPS. Country music pipes from the sound system and James is sure that José rolls his eyes, but he can't be sure. 

(He's mostly sure.) 

The GPS leads him to some Mexican restaurant and José's gaze feels like a weight between his shoulders. 

José puts his hand on James's elbow, pausing him from getting out. 

"We still need that tiebreaker." José says and he puts his elbow on the center console. 

"What's the winner get?" James asks. And it's like a band around his chest loosening. José puts his hand into James's, there's not enough room, the seats are going to get in the way-- it's stupid. 

"Winner take all?" 

There's an innuendo there that makes James's heart pound, uncomfortable. José leans in and slots his mouth against James's, fast and sharp, his teeth dig in. James is struck dumb with surprise and he feels the thump of his hand against the leather upholstery.

José wins as James is distracted, thinking about what it might mean. And flashes him a mischievous sharp smile as he pulls back. 

James can't get a handle on the way he feels about it and he shakes his head. 

"You cheat." 

"I told you, I no play fair." 

James rolls his eyes at José and then leans in to kiss him again. They make out like teenagers, José stretched over the middle console of the truck, his hands braced on James's shoulders, kissing until they can hardly breathe. 

"Alright, dinner." James says finally. "Then my place." 

José's cheeks are flushed again, eyes dark and lidded a little. James's heart feels close to bursting. His hand settles on José's thigh. 

"Better idea, takeout." James says. It'll only be another few minutes before they're alone again. Honestly, James can't wait.


End file.
